Prophecy & Change
by Soledad
Summary: In the 5th year of Crusade, a cure for the Drakh virus is found. Alternate version of "Flarn Manages" by Luthienn with the author's consent. For details see the Into within.
1. Prologue: The Writing on the Wall

**PROPHECY & CHANGE**

**Authors:** Eye_of_a_cat & Soledad

**Fandom:** Babylon5/Crusade crossover

**Rating:** G – PG-13

**Genre:** Angst, Drama

**Series:** none

**Pairing:** Neroon/OFC, sort of

**Disclaimer:** The Babylon 5 universe belongs to JMS. We are just borrowing the characters for some fun. We promise to give them back relatively unharmed. Only Lúthienn belongs to us – please don't use her without permission.

**Summary:** In the 5th year of _Crusade_, a cure for the Drakh virus is miraculously found.

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><p><strong>INTRODUCTION – Please, read it before you continue! It is important!<strong>

Sorry for the shouting, but I didn't want to be unjustly accused of plagiarism. You'll see below why.

This story was originally known as "Flarn Manages" and born of cooperation between myself and Eye_of_a_cat, posted under the shared pen name "Luthienn". For personal reasons, Eye_of_a_cat could no longer participate and allowed me to continue it as I please.

Since Hotmail, for reasons known to them alone, deleted the e-mail address to our shared account, I can't access it anymore, so I am forced to repost the story under my own name, in order to be able to continue. I've informed Eye_of_a_cat about this, and there had been no objections.

Digging out the story after several years, I opted for some changes. We originally planned this as a deliberate Minbari Sue, but were apparently so subtle about it that nobody spotted the tongue in our cheek. So I chose to remove the exaggerated parts (including the gratuitous use of Minbari phrases) and turn this into a serious story. Which is why I changed the title, too.

Readers familiar with my "Kansas" series will notice that the settings are very similar. However, this story has nothing to do with "Kansas". It merely shares my headcanon about Neroon's family and a few other background ideas.

The reposted 9 parts will remain basically the same, save for the aforementioned cosmetic corrections (aka removing the purple prose and the silliness). It will be marked which parts were written by Eye_of_a_cat and which parts by me. Starting with Part 10, however, everything will be written by me.

Thank you for your patience, and now continue to the story. I hope you will enjoy the revised version.

Soledad

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><p><strong>Prologue: The Writing On The Wall<strong>

**(written by Soledad)**

**Author's note:** Obviously, the events of this story don't always match with the official Babylon 5/Crusade canon. This is an AU, based on the canon of the television series only. Please keep this important fact in mind when reading.

Characters not recognizable from Babylon 5 or Crusade are real life friends, getting a cameo. Except the names of the cardinals, of course. g And yes, Carmelite nuns actually do have names like that. It's one of the peculiarities of that order.

* * *

><p><strong>Earth, Rome, 12 March 2271<strong>

It was 0730, CET, when Pope Bernadette II returned from morning services at the Carmelite sisters' small convent to her official quarters in the Vatican. For years upon years, these early morning visits had made her capable of going on with her daily work.

At first sight nobody would have guessed her high status in the Catholic Church. She was a medium-height, stocky woman, barely on the far side of the fifty-year-barrier, wore a simple black soutane (she liked to silence the protest of her cardinals against this custom of hers with the mock-annoyed remark that the proper, pope-y white one made her look fat) and round, old-fashioned glasses. All in all, she was rather unremarkable, to put it mildly.

With her smooth, reddish-brown hair twisted into a low bun on the nape of her neck, she didn't look any different than the other clergywomen that could be spotted time and again on the streets of Rome. And while female priests were still something of a rarity in the Catholic Church, even in the 23rd century (the Church being notoriously slow and hesitant with changes, even with the most crucial ones), people had slowly grown used to see them during the recent hundred years or so and didn't glare at them in disbelief any longer.

A certain degree of caution was undoubtedly required on Earth in these days. Mankind lived – if the mere existence could be called living at all – in the fifth year of the Drakh Plague, and despair had begun to overcome the whole planet. Doomsday cults like the Sacred Omega sect rose overnight and attracted people like a flame attracts moths. Suicide acts, mindlessly destructive actions, plunderings were the order of the day. And things were getting worse, with every passing day that ate away a small bit of what little hope for salvation people still had.

The Pope knew that, logically, she shouldn't be walking on the streets alone, unprotected – especially not in these early hours. She could have attended to service in San Pietro just as well. In fact, she was _supposed_ to celebrate the Holy Mass in San Pietro at ten o'clock. She was the Pope, after all, and people who filled the churches all over the world were looking up to her for strength, guidance and support.

Which was the exact reason why she needed these hours for herself, every morning. These were the hours she drew her strength from; from the psalms, sung by the Sisters of the Carmel in a manner that had not changed since the times of St. Teresa von Avila; from the soothing atmosphere of the Carmel, permeated by centuries of silence and meditation; from the power of unbroken tradition that seemed to keep those thick walls of the convent together, much stronger than mortar could have done.

And, of course, from the steadfast support and friendship of one Sister Teresa Benedicta a Cruce.

The Pope and the nun had known each other for decades. They had both come from Austria, a small and rather insignificant region in Middle-Europe, met through a mutual friend (who had died as one of the first victims of the Drakh Plague, just a few months ago), they both chose a life in a convent, so understanding had been formed early on between them.

Their lives, however, had developed very differently.

Katharina Spinner entered the Carmel in Austria and become Sister Teresa Benedicta a Cruce. Her life had been restrained to the convent from that day on.

Louise Schmitz couldn't follow the calling of her heart at once, as her family had opposed her plans violently. Thus she had first made a degree in education and become a school teacher, since she needed to support her mother and grandparents. But she had never given up her original intention to live a life in the service of the Church and studied theology in the evening school

When she had turned twenty-nine, she and her family had finally found a compromise. She left school work and got ordained as a priest. This way, she was able to support her family and yet lead a life that was at least close to her original calling.

She had held small, insignificant positions for fourteen years, until – during the last year of the Earth-Minbari war – her predecessor, Pope Bernadette I, appointed her as the bishop of St. Pölten. It had been quite a shock for her, but the Pope had explained that the Church needed a great deal of rebuilding after the war (assumed there was anything left to rebuild), and that she needed people with a strong practical sense and a lot of experience in pastoral work to accomplish that.

Half a year later – the war had barely ended and Earth lay in ruin – Pope Bernadette I died, but not before naming her predecessor in front of the Conclave: the Bishop of Sankt Pölten. The cardinals had not been overjoyed by that choice, and it took them weeks of heated discussions to finally reach the decision, according to the wish of the late Pope.

Theoretically, they could have chosen someone else, of course. But the late Pope had sent her official declaration to ISN just before her death, and thus everyone knew whom _she_ had wanted as her successor. And while people usually didn't care much for the internal politics of the Catholic Church, as it had become just one of the many human religions during the recent centuries, the election of the Pope was still _news_; it would have cast a really bad light upon the cardinals, had they ignored the explicit wish of the late Pope. Especially as Bernadette I had been extremely well-respected, even outside of her Church. It was better to give in and hope that things would work out somehow.

Thus Bernadette II had been elected, and her first years upon the throne of Petrus were less than pleasant or easy. Her predecessor had been a nun of a contemplative order, a highly respected theologian and considered a saint. She was none of those things, and some high-ranking members of the clergy often treated her in an almost insulting manner. But unlike them, she had understood the reason of her predecessor's choice.

Bernadette I had been elected at the beginning of the Dilgar war because at times of war people needed strength and spiritual support. Due to her personal background, she had been able to provide that, and she had proved to be the rock in the storm during the Earth-Minbari war as well. But in the aftermath of war, for the hard and often dirty work of rebuilding, a different type of leader was needed. A leader experienced in the practical aspects of life, who could roll up her sleeves and do the actual work, if necessary.

Bernadette II had proved very successful in that sort of work.

She had managed to keep the Church together during President Clark's reign of terror and the Telepath Wars, providing help and asylum to those who were hunted, and she had mediated between the warring parties as well as she could. She was by no means a diplomat, but she had a strong common sense and something she called the BS-detector, when in the circle of her friends: she could see through lies and evasive maneuvers with an almost frightening clarity. Years spent among teenaged kids in upper primary school could develop that sense in a person.

Things had just begun to lighten up on Earth, when – seemingly out of nowhere – the Drakh Plague hit. This time it truly seemed that God had grown tired of mankind… or with Earth, at the very least.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin<em>(1)," she murmured absent-mindedly, entering her study.

It was hard to accept. She had hoped that, against all hope, a cure would be found in time. But time was running out quickly, and the first people had already begun to fall victim to the Drakh Plague. Medical scientists estimated that the population of Earth had about eight months left. Probably even less. This time, Armageddon truly seemed to have come.

The Pope sat down behind her desk, poured herself a cup of coffee from the ever-present thermos standing on a small, wheeled table on her right and checked her daily schedule. It was tight as always, but she welcomed it. Work was good. It helped her keeping her sanity. Being busy saved her from freaking out.

She began reading the reports that had come in during the night. It was _not_ a pleasant reading stuff, but she needed to remain informed about how things were going in the various local churches.

Needless to say, things were _not_ going well. But she hadn't expected them to, so it was no big surprise.

"Computer," she said tiredly when she felt the urgent need of a break, "have there been any calls coming in during the last six hours?"

"You have had twenty-six calls during this time period," the artificial voice told her; she hated it, but it was still better than keeping her poor secretary awake at impossible hours. The woman was nine years her senior, after all, she should have been in retirement for years, but insisted on remaining in service, and the Pope was grateful for it. Without Judith's organizatory talents and excellent memory her office would have sunk into chaos years ago.

"List me the calls in chronological order," she said.

"Acknowledged," the computer replied. "Number one: a call from President Luchenko. Number two: a call from Cardinal Giotto. Number three: a call from the Pastoral Congregation, dispatched to Dr. Judith Block for further consideration. Number four: a call from Cardinal Ferrero, acknowledging your latest orders. Number five: a call from Cardinal Roché. Number six: a call from Reverend Dexter, dispatched to Dr. Judith Block. Number seven: a call from Cardinal Raffaello. Number eight: a private call from Reverend Henderson. Number nine: a call from Cardinal Grandoletti. Number ten: a call from Rabbi Leo Meyers, dispatched to Dr. Judith Block. Number eleven: a call from Brother Theo…"

"Stop. You mean _Brother Theo_? As in Brother Theo from Babylon 5?"

"Confirmed."

"Oh, good. Call Brother Theo back for me. Use a secure channel."

The computer gave a sound of acknowledgement and placed the call. A few moments later the round head of the old, bearded Trappist monk appeared on the viewscreen. Seeing the face of the Pope, Brother Theo grinned broadly.

"Your Holiness! What brings me the honour and pleasure of your call?

The Pope smiled back at him. They had known each other for longer than she cared to count, and Brother Theo knew perfectly well that he didn't need to give her the official title. One that she found way mismatched when it came to her person and thus disliked greatly. He did it to tease her, and for no other reason.

"Theo, my old friend, it's good to see you, too," she said. "How are you faring?"

"Reasonably well, save the small woes of advanced age," the old monk replied in good humour, as always. Then his expression sobered abruptly. "And how are things back home?"

"Bad," the Pope answered bluntly, "and getting worse. People are growing desperate here; small wonder, with a death warrant hanging above their heads. Crime rates are rising to unparalleled heights all over the planet. The pressure on us is growing, too. People are seeking support and guidance – which is the only positive side effect of this whole ugly mess. But I must admit, this was _not_ the way I've hoped to fill our churches again."

"No, I guess not," Brother Theo's eyes saddened considerably. "I'm glad that at least you have Benedicta nearby."

"So am I, believe me," the Pope admitted thoughtfully.

As a rule, Carmelite nuns lived out their lives in the very same convent that they had joined in the first place. Reassignments were almost unheard-of. But when Bernadette II had been elected, Sister Teresa Benedicta a Cruce applied officially requested a transfer to the Carmel in Rome, in order to provide her old friend some moral support. And one of the few advantages of being the Pope was that Bernadette II could grant that request within her own authority, without fighting with a dozen committees about it first.

"You have called me a few days ago," Brother Theo picked up the thread of their conversation again. "I apologize for not answering earlier, but I wasn't on Babylon 5. I had been to Minbar, visiting the Sisters of Valeria – a most remarkable religious order. I bet Rabbi Meyers would be excited to learn about them… Forgive me; I seem to have become talkative at my old age. What did you want from me?"

The Pope took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy, but she had to persuade Brother Theo to accept her decision, and she had to manage it now. There might not be another opportunity.

"Listen carefully, Theo, for I don't know if I'm going to have the chance to repeat what I'm about to tell you now. The people on Earth have eight months left to live, tops. Probably even less."

"Is that certain?" Brother Theo asked, a little shocked. He, too, had hoped that the original estimate had been too pessimistic. The Pope nodded.

"I've just read the official report of the medical institutes. Unless, of course, a miracle happens and a cure will be found in that time, but I'm slowly losing hope in that. But the continuity of the office must _not_ be broken. So, in case I'm going to die in the near future, I have appointed you as my successor. Judy will be sending you the encoded documents about his decision within two days."

"_Me_?" now the old monk was clearly more than just a little shocked. "But I am not even ordained as a bishop."

"You are now," the Pope shrugged. "I signed the documents yesterday. Cardinal Ferrero, the only Conclave member not infected, will travel to Babylon 5 with two other bishops from Earth colonies to handle your ordination as soon as possible. We can't take any chances on this."

"But why me? Ferrero would be a much better choice."

"No, he wouldn't. Firstly, he is a jurist; a fine one, but not exactly a people's person. Secondly, he has Proxima 3 to consider. He is needed in his own diocese."

"Are you sure he agrees with you in this?"

"Quite sure. He agreed to support you with his considerable knowledge, but he said himself that he wouldn't make a good Pope, not in this crisis, when the Church is about to be limited to a few thousand people, scattered across a dozen colony planets and outposts."

"And _I would_?"

"Most certainly. You are the right person for the job, Theo – the _only_ person to stand up to these extraordinary demands. You have your brethren to support you. You'll have Ferrero to help you with the bureaucracy. You already have contacts to various alien religious leaders – and you live on an independent station, so that you can't be blackmailed into anything by the colonial governments." The Pope paused, staring at her old friend intently. "I count on you, Theo. The future of our Church is in your hands. Don't let me down. Please."

Brother Theo bowed his grey head in resignation. "I won't, Your Holiness. I give you my word."

"Good," the Pope smiled. "Maybe there _will_ be a wonder happening, just in time to spare you the horrors."

"I surely wish there would," Brother Theo said solemnly, "but things are not looking well. The _Excalibur_ has just returned to Babylon 5 for repairs, after a six-month-long deep space exploration trip…"

"And…?"

"So far, they have found nothing," the old monk sighed. "We are helping to analyse the data they have collected, of course; and there still is a small chance to find something useful, but…"

The Pope nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. "I understand. Well, we have to face the fact that there may _not_ be a cure, after all. We might _like_ playing God, in fact, we seem to do it much too frequently, but in the end, we are _not_ God. We can hope for wonders, but we can't enforce them."

"Considering our history, this is probably the lesser evil," Brother Theo answered grimly, "even though I'm not looking forward to see that history end like this."

"Neither do I," the Pope sighed. "I have to go, Theo. There is much work to do, and I intend to do it, as long as I am able to. Keep me informed, will you?"

"Of course, Your Holiness. May I have your blessing?"

"You have always had it, and you'll always have, old friend," the Pope raised her hand to the traditional blessing, then she broke the connection. This particular conversation had been more painful that she had feared it. She hadn't looked forward to load such a burden onto the shoulders of Brother Theo, but there was no other way.

"_Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin_," she muttered again, before returning to her work. "God has numbered the days of our kingdom and brought it to an end. We have been weighed in the balances and found wanting. Our kingdom is divided and given to the Shadows. Or the Drakh. What a pity. And I have hoped that this time we would actually learn from our mistakes. Obviously, we have tried God's patience one time too many."

~TBC~

(1) See: Daniel 5:25. With a few modifications, of course.


	2. Ch 1: Acts of Sacrifice Part 1

**Prophecy & Change  
><strong>

**by Soledad & eye_of_a_cat  
><strong>

**Author's notes: **For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Prologue. The Minbari names and expressions were borrowed from Hightower's Minbari dictionary.

**CHAPTER 1: ACTS OF SACRIFICE**

**PART 1**

**Written by eye_of_a_cat**

* * *

><p><strong>Minbari space, shortly after the end of the Earth-Minbari War<strong>

Among the stars, far away from Minbar, the Grey Council cruiser _Valen'tha_ glided silently through the darkness of space. The war was over, and the damage caused to the ship's hull by the fatal encounter with the humans had been repaired so well that only the barest trace was left. Many Minbari had died over the past two years, and there were few on board the _Valen'tha_ who had not lost a clan member or a friend, but the losses were small compared to those of the humans. Besides, warriors were heedless of their own lives in battle, and did not fear death. It was only now, several months after the Battle of the Line and the surrender order which followed, that Minbar was in danger of being torn apart.

The Warrior Caste obeyed the surrender order which had, after all, come directly from the Grey Council itself, but they did not do so happily. Resentment was growing all over Minbar, with the Warrior Caste blaming the Religious for demanding a retreat so close to victory. Shai Alyt Sinoval, dead by his own hand rather than give the command to surrender, was spoken of as a hero. The Religious Caste, in turn, called the Warriors barbarians and blamed them for involving all Minbari in genocide. For the first time in a thousand years, Minbar was close to civil war.

In the council chambers of the _Valen'tha_, the Nine stood in their pillars of light. Although their grey robes must be worn at all times while the Council was in session, the heavy hoods which covered each individual's face were not required, and would usually be worn only when an outsider was summoned to appear before them. Since the surrender order, however, the Nine had chosen to keep their faces hidden. This should have blurred the divisions between castes, and reminded each Satai they were serving all Minbari rather than their own clan. Instead, it only seemed to be making matters worse.

Satai Hedronn, of the Warrior Caste, had pulled back his hood earlier as the debate grew more heated. Now, he paced back and forth impatiently as he spoke, throwing each barbed comment at a different cloaked figure.

"This _cannot_ be allowed to continue!" he roared. "You have all heard the reports of what is happening on Minbar, just as I have. Our people are turning against each other in their anger and grief. Is this what Dukhat's death has brought us to? A holy war that failed to avenge him, and a world descending into madness?"

"No Minbari has killed another for a thousand years," another Satai replied; Hedronn recognised the voice of Rathenn, of the Religious Caste. "Unless you believe the Warrior Caste are prepared to change that?"

"The _Religious_ Caste call them monsters and murderers," Hedronn snapped in response, "after the Warriors gave their lives for Minbar."

"If they are as close as you say they are to declaring war on other Minbari, maybe the Religious Caste are right."

Hedronn spun around to face him, the very air itself seeming to come alive with fury. "You would _dare…_"

"_Enough!_"

Both the arguing Satai fell silent, staring at the figure who had interrupted, and who now lifted her hood back from her head. As the chosen of Dukhat, Delenn's wisdom was unquestioned, but until this point she had not spoken in any of the discussions about what was happening on Minbar.

"Enough," she said again, more softly. "Satai Hedronn is right. We must find a way to create peace between the Warriors and Religious."

"And do you have any suggestions?" asked Satai Morann of the Warrior Caste, anger mixing with concern in his voice. "The Council of Caste Elders can do nothing, it seems. The Religious Caste will not listen. The Warrior Caste will not listen."

"Then we shall _make_ them listen." Delenn half-turned to a fellow Religious Satai, still hooded, who nodded for her to continue. "In the time before Valen, when Minbari still fought and killed Minbari, wars would be ended when the winning clan gave a female to the ones who lost, as a symbol of life and hope. The Warrior Caste feels wronged by the Religious, and the Warriors suffered most – although not _all_," she added pointedly to Hedronn – "of the deaths in our war with the humans. We will give them a female of the Religious Caste, in marriage."

Hedronn considered this, and the other Satai waited in silence.

"I believe the Warrior caste would accept such a gesture," he said eventually, "if the correct individual could be found. And we would need a Warrior of sufficient rank, who is respected by all clans, and who would agree to this."

Morann nodded. "Alyt Neroon, of the _Ingata_," he said. "He fought well in the war against the humans, and while he obeyed the surrender order, he is highly thought of by all Warriors for stating his disapproval on many occasions since. If he was to be married to your Religious Caste female, the Warrior Caste would accept this as an attempt to make amends. Assuming he would agree to this, of course."

"He will," Delenn answered, the tone of her voice making it clear that anything else was simply not a possibility. "If Shai Alyt Branmer asks this of him, he will obey, and I have no doubt that Branmer will do as I ask." She glanced once again at the still-hooded Satai standing beside her. "Satai Khadiri has searched our archives for a Religious Caste female who would be suitable."

Satai Khadiri, a tall woman whose intricately carved headbone suggested Warrior Caste heritage as well as her Religious Caste origins, lifted back her own hood.

"A thousand cycles ago, Valen foretold the birth of the Chosen One," she began, and even the Warrior caste Satai bowed their heads in respect at the words. "A child born to the Religious Caste who would save us from our worst fear and greatest threat, who would carry the destiny of Minbar in her hands. The Sisters of Valeria have found this child and raised her in their temple."

"The Chosen One?" Rathenn was trying to keep his voice calm, but all present could clearly hear his amazement. "She has been born to our people?"

Satai Khadiri nodded, and the half-whispered exclamations of awe from the other Satai grew louder. Only Delenn, Hedronn noticed, did not seem impressed, and was frowning slightly as Khadiri described the intricate details of the prophecy which foretold the Chosen One's birth. It was not unusual, he supposed, for Religious to fight amongst themselves over the finer points of prophecy – but surely Delenn could not doubt the Chosen One?

"The Warrior Caste will accept this," he said, making sure to look directly at Delenn as he spoke. "No Minbari would deny the importance of the Chosen One."

Delenn sighed. "I do not doubt her importance," she said, "only whether the prophecy refers to this marriage. But Satai Khadiri has spent a lifetime studying the ancient scrolls, and I will abide by her interpretation."

Anger flashed across Khadiri's face for the briefest of moments, and then was gone.

"It is decided, then," she said. "Luthienn of the Faithful Hearts shall marry Neroon of the Star Riders, for the good of our people. Satai Delenn will inform the Sisters of Valeria of this on our return to Minbar."

The lights in the Council chamber blinked back to darkness. On Minbar, Luthienn of the Faithful Hearts was sleeping peacefully, unaware that her destiny would so soon come upon her.

~TBC~


	3. Ch 2: Acts of Sacrifice Part 2

**PROPHECY & CHANGE**

**by Soledad & eye_of_a_cat**

For disclaimer, rating, etc, see the Prologue.

**Author's note:** The esoteric stuff is mostly made up by me. For the meaning of names see the end of this chapter.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 1: ACTS OF SACRIFICE<strong>

**PART 2**

**written by Soledad**

**Minbar, the city of Tuzanor, in the same cycle**

On the northern continent of Minbar stood the city of Tuzanor, also known as the City of Sorrows – a place as old as Minbari culture itself, full of traditions and secrets, some of them holy and some of them dark. Its history reached back to the beginning of the people, way before Valen, before even the caste system was established. Long before Yedor, the capital on the southern continent, was established, Tuzanor had been there. Yedor might have been called the Eternal City, but it was fairly new compared with Tuzanor.

Which was the very reason why the Temple of Valeria had stood here for uncounted millennia. The esoteric cult of wisdom and light, embodied in the mythic figure of Valeria, of whom not even the high priestesses knew if she had to be considered as a goddess, a preternatural creature or simply the personification of the divine powers that held the Universe together, predated the fairly young cult of Valen so far that it was impossible to tell how much older it was.

Still, the followers of Valeria – a group within the Religious Caste that refused to take part in any power struggles and deeply despised violence – had chosen to support Valen when he had come to aid the Minbari against the Old Enemy, the Shadows. How could they not? The Shadows were the exact opposite of whatever Valeria and her followers stood for. Everyone who helped them to drive out the Shadows of the Galaxy was an ally.

Thus they allowed Valen into the inner court of the Temple – according to tradition he had been one of the nine males ever to receive this honour – and taught him all that he had been able to learn. In exchange, Valen had shared with them his holy visions of the far future, which the Sisters of Valeria had written down and kept the scrolls locked away – until the fullness of time, when they had to be opened and their secrets shared with the chosen ones.

The Temple of Valeria stood in the oldest part of the city, way beyond the dazzling array of crystalline surfaces that was considered the centre of Tuzanor. The buildings, carved from the natural crystalline deposits of the planet, generally wore geometric shapes, most predominantly that of a triangle. To the Minbari, everything reflected the number three: the caste system, the mysterious Grey Council, their most sacred relics… even their architecture. All were evocative of "three".

The Temple of Valeria was no exception from this rule. It was perhaps the most imposing structure of the whole city: a structure of nine separate buildings, eight of them arranged in a hexagonal outline with three temples each on the longer sides and two each on the upper and lower peaks. A ninth building was adjoining the lower peak, as if it were some sort of anteroom, and all buildings were connected by arched corridors that had no windows to the outside. No outsiders had ever seen the inner courts and gardens… or the inner sanctum that was established above all other temples, just like the head of the Grey Council stood above the other nine Satai.

All these temples wore the names of the different aspects of Valeria; her "emanations", as the secret lore of the Sisters called it. There were not named on any of the modern languages – not even in Adronato, the Religious Caste language – but in the Sacred Tongue that no one but the anointed Sisters of Valeria still understood.

The first one on the lower peak was called _Malkhut_, the Knowledge, for knowledge was the way that led to the deeper mysteries. The second one on the lower peak was _Yeshod_, the Light, for through knowledge the way to light leads. The first one on the left was _Hod_, the Patience, and the first one on the right was _Nezah_, the Sacrifice, and these two led to the hidden inner temple in the middle of the court, the one called _Tifreth_, the Glory. From Patience on the left led the way to _Din_, the Power, and from _Sacrifice_ on the right led the way to _Khesed_, the Mercy. Power again led to _Binakh_ on the left, the Understanding, and Mercy on the right led to _Chokhmah_, the Wisdom. These two, finally, led to the upper peak and its crowning temple that bore the name of _Kheter_, which meant Enlightening in the Sacred Tongue, but also Crown.

It took ten cycles for a novice to pass through all these temples, living and serving a cycle in each and learning the ancient lore assigned to that particular temple. The buildings had arched walkways connecting them with each other, linearly either on the left or on the right side, and again one walkway each connected the twin buildings that balanced out each other on the two sides. Only _Tifreth_ had a connection to each other temple, for Glory meant in the lore of the Sisters the summary of all Valeria's attributes. Consequently, this was the most important one of all temples, and only those who had gone through the other nine and reached Kheter on the end of the ninth cycle of their service were allowed to enter it.

Luthienn from the Faithful Hearts – a small and rather insignificant clan of the Religious Caste – had nearly completed her cycle of studies in the Temple of _Tifreth_. Only thirty more days separated her from the inauguration ceremony, in which she would be irreversibly declared dead for the outside world and become a Sister of Valeria. Ten cycles would have been a long and arduous way for any novice, but hers was even more so than that of the others, for she was the Chosen One. Thus she had spent all her life in the Temple… well, almost.

She had barely reached the end of her first cycle, when the Sisters, alerted by an ancient prophecy Valen, began their search for the Chosen One – a female child born once in a thousand cycles. The instructions of the prophecy were clear enough, so that Master Draal found her rather easily. She was taken from her biological parents and brought to the Temple. As such thing was considered a great (and extremely rare) honour, her parents obeyed, of course, even though their hearts were breaking. They had met only once in the last fourteen cycles – when her parents brought her baby brother, Tannier, to the Temple, to receive the blessings of the Sisters.

Too little for a life in the convent yet, Luthienn had spent the first five cycles in the common area of the Temple of _Malkhut_, with the other girls who had received their Calling or been sent there by their parents. But even then, her life had been different. She had not slept with the others in the dormitory but in a tiny cell all by herself. She had been tutored by Master Draal from a very tender age on, and when she fulfilled her sixth cycle, she was clad in the robes of a _Shai'mira_, a female acolyte (not that the Order of Valeria had male ones) and entered the Temple of _Yeshod_, never to leave the Order again.

From that moment on, her life had belonged to Valeria. Her unparalleled gift for musical harmony had been detected, and she served as a _Shai'mira_ for six cycles, walking through the Temples of _Hod_, _Nezah_, _Din_, _Khesed_ and _Binakh_. As her voice was the sweetest and clearest that even the oldest Sisters had ever heard, she was chosen to sing the most sacred hymns during the ceremonies. She had content with this life and willing to live it out as a _Ch'aal_, a ceremony master. It was a honourable position and she found great delight in this kind of service.

Whenever she had mentioned this to _Sal'sataia_ Zhalenn(1), the superior of the Temple, the tall, willowy priestess had just smiled kindly and warned her that as a Chosen One, she might not have the chance to choose her own place in the Temple. She had not understood this cryptic answer – until the visions came

She had barely fulfilled her twelfth cycle and had just entered the Temple of _Chokmah_, when they first hit. It had caused a great upheaval in the Order, of course – how could it not? A young girl, with the sign of the Chosen One on her head, having visions about the death of Dukhat… it _was_ highly unsettling. And when shortly thereafter Dukhat was killed and the bloody war against the race called humans broke out, _Sal'sataia_ Zhalenn began to give her thoughtful looks, and ordered the eldest Sisters to search all ancient scrolls for more prophecies about the Chosen One.

The visions had never ceased since then. The Sisters tried to shield her from the outside world, but Luthienn knew she would not be able to hide in the Temple forever. A Seer had duties towards her people. And a Chosen One had a destiny that she could not escape. Not that she would want to escape. Her life was service – to serve Valeria, the Temple and Minbar. The form of service might change. That which was important – to serve her people – always remained the same.

* * *

><p>Completing her afternoon studies, Luthienn left the library of <em>Tifreth<em> and stepped out onto the balcony to look upon the inner gardens. Their beauty always put her heart at ease, and right now she needed that small relief. She had been struggling with frightening visions of darkness and bloodshed for days by now, which was the more upsetting as the war against the humans had ended almost a year ago.

She gathered the wide folds of her white robes tighter around her and looked down onto the sunlit gardens. There was a small waterfall cascading down next to the arched, stained glass entrance of the Temple of _Khesed_, its water pouring into a small pond. It was an incredibly peaceful, soothing sound, and Luthienn began to relax, when she discovered two white-clad women sitting on a bench next to the pond and talking in low voices.

One of them was _Sal'sataia_ Zhalenn, but the other didn't wear the sacral robes of the Temple. She wore the common white of the Religious Caste, and that surprised Luthienn a little. Visitors were a rare thing here, as the Sisters led a solitary life, spent in silence and meditations, aside from the ceremonies. With the expectations of teaching the acolytes and the novices, they rarely even spoke to each other, in order to keep the serene atmosphere undisturbed. Family members were welcome to join the ceremonies in the Temple of _Malkhut_, but they were seldom allowed to enter the inner court or to speak to the Sisters – only in matters of great importance.

And yet now an outsider was visiting the Temple grounds. And not any outsider, at that. Although she had only been here once before, _Satai_ Delenn was not unknown to the Sisters. Not only was she a renowned leader of the Religious Caste and the one who had brought the war against the humans to an end, she was also the daughter of _Sal'sataia_ Zhalenn. Which, of course, didn't mean that she would have been allowed to go in and out of the Temple as she pleased. So, why was she here now?

Luthienn felt the dark clouds of foreboding blur her vision, despite the warm sunshine in the gardens. Was _Satai_ Delenn here to ask for protection in the Temple? Was there truly another bloody war coming? Was the Temple still safe?

She could not stay there any longer. She fled the balcony, ran back into the Temple of _Tifreth_, back to her own small, bare cell and tried to find support in her meditations, to center herself. But not even fifteen cycles spent in rigorous exercises could bring her soul the peace that she had sought.

It wasn't until after the sunset ceremony that _Sal'sataia_ Zhalenn sent a young acolyte to her and asked for a private meeting. This was a most unusual request, and Lúthienn felt her chest tighten with anxiety. In all her years in the Temple, she had only met _Sal'sataia_ Zhalen privately about four times. She was only a novice, not even an anointed Sister, and _Sal'sataia_ Zhalen rarely spoke to anyone outside of tutoring anyway.

She was lead to the _Sal'sataia_'s office in the Temple of _Malkuth_ – the only public area of the Temple grounds. It was less barren than the usual accommodations in the Temple, after all, it was used for the rare occasions when the _Sal'sataia_ had to meet outside visitors (usually Religious Caste leaders), and small adjustments for the outsiders' sake had been made. One could not expect dignitaries to kneel on a thin mat upon the cold stone floor while discussing important matters with the _Sal'sataia_.

Zhalenn looked up from her desk where she was studying some documents – official papers, from the look of them, not ancient scrolls of lore – and smiled. Her green eyes were wise and warm… and surprisingly tired, hiding a deep sadness that had not been there the day before.

"Ah, Luthienn," she greeted her warmly, "good, you are already here. You can leave us, Dhaliri," she added, turning to her attendant, "we won't need you anymore."

That surprised Luthienn even more, and she started to become truly concerned. If _Sal'sataia_ Zhalenn didn't want her attendant present, the conversation would not be pleasant.

"Please, sit." Zhalenn gestured to a couch and waited for the astonished _Dra'sa_ to seat herself. They were alone in a small office, and Zhalenn knew there would be no purpose in formality now. Everything depended upon what she was about to say… and what Luthienn might answer. This was something that needed to be done, and it was her assignment to persuade Luthienn of the necessity of it.

Zhalenn studied her hands, for once not able to look at her favourite pupil. "I did not want this to happen, Luthienn." She looked up at her in sorrow. "Please know this. I have done all I could to prevent this from happening, although I have known for some time that my efforts would likely fail. I still believe that this is a mistake, but my objections were rejected by the Grey Council itself."

Luthienn couldn't think of an answer. She simply looked at the _Sal'sataia_, her heart growing heavy with nameless fear.

Zhalenn leaned back in her chair and took a steadying breath. "For a thousand cycles, Minbari have kept stability and order through the three castes, as you know. But ever since we ended our war against the humans, peace between the Warrior and the Religious Castes has been precarious at best."

Luthienn nodded, starting to understand the pattern. "They are not taking kindly that they have been robbed from their victory, are they?"

"No, they are not," Zhalenn agreed. "Ever since Shai Alyt Sinoval took his own life out of protest and the _Trigati_ has vanished in deep space, hidden hostility has been festering between the two Castes. This has to end, or the Peace of Valen would be broken and chaos would break out across all Minbar. Thus the Grey Council has come to a decision – one that would cost our Order a great sacrifice."

Luthienn gave no answer, just waited patiently for an explanation about what that sacrifice would be, and how it concerned her personally.

"It has been a time-honoured custom of our people that if a clan has been wronged by another one, a child from the clan which bore the fault would send a child to the wronged clan to marry one of their members," Zhalenn continued carefully. "And as the Warrior Caste feels that they were wronged by the Religious Caste, our only way seems to be to follow this ancient custom. But this time the wrongdoing seems too great to be balanced out by a simple _Nafak'cha_(2). This time, a greater sacrifice is required." She looked at Luthienn steadfastly now. "I have no other choice, child. I shall have to set you free, so that you can marry Neroon from the Star Riders clan."

Luthienn gazed at her in absolute horror. Leaving the Temple, where she had spent all her life? Giving up her Calling, her destiny, to marry a warrior responsible for uncounted deaths during the war? _Neroon_, of all people, him, who never failed to boast about how many humans he had killed? The Sisters of Valeria might have led a solitary life, but even they had followed the events of war, thus Luthienn knew all too well how Neroon was.

He was a monster. A monster in the disguise of a Minbari. A monster that delighted in the massacring of a clearly inferior people. And she was supposed to marry _that_?

"It has to be, child," Zhalenn continued; being a telepath, she could read the troubled mind of the confused girl like an open scroll, "or else the war and bloodshed will come to Minbar, the next time."

"But why me?" Luthienn whispered, devastated.

The _Sal'sataia_ sighed in defeat. "We are the most respected monastery on Minbar. Giving away one of our own would show that the Caste is serious about making amends. And you are the only one among us who has already reached puberty but hasn't been anointed yet."

Lúthienn was too numb with shock to feel anything. So, she wouldn't be inaugurated when the fullness of time comes. Thirty days only separated her from the last Rites. In thirty days, she would have been safe from the scheming of the Grey Council, safe from Neroon… But now all was lost. All she had prepared herself for, all she had studied, prayed for, all she has hoped for, was taken from her.

"I've tried to fight this decision," Zhalenn added bitterly, "but I was overruled. This has to be done, Luthienn. You have to sacrifice yourself – for the good of Minbar."

Luthienn nodded, almost absent-mindedly. This was too much to take at once, too hard, too cruel. "When…?" she finally asked.

"Neroon has already left for Tuzanor," Zhalenn answered simply. "The betrothal ceremony will take place in two days."

The girl blinked, shaking her head at the news. "So soon?" she whispered.

Zhalenn nodded solemnly. "The sooner the voices of dissatisfaction are silenced, the better for our people. But I made it adamantly clear that you shall not leave the Temple until you reach legal maturity. This is your home – you have nowhere to go. And the marriage cannot be consummated as long as you are under-age."

"But I shall not be inaugurated, shall I?" Luthienn asked, barely audibly.

Zhalenn shook her head in sympathy. "I fear that is no longer possible, child. I am greatly displeased about this, for I am certain that your destiny would lie elsewhere, but I cannot do anything to stop this from happening."

Luthienn nodded, her young heart breaking visibly. A single tear appeared in her eye and rolled down her face slowly.

"I shall do it," she whispered brokenly. "For the sake of our people."

~TBC~

* * *

><p><strong>End notes:<strong>

(1) According to Hightower's Minbari dictionary, _zhalen_ means "alone". I made a noun out of it, so the name of the _Sal'sataia_ (literally "Mistress", also the Mother Superior) has the approximate meaning "the lonely one".

(2) Rebirth ceremony.

* * *

><p><strong>The structure of the Temple of Valeria (based on the Trees of the Sohar, from the teachings of the Kabbala):<strong>

1. Malkhut – Knowledge

2. Yeshod – Light

3a. Hod – Patience

3b. Nezah – Sacrifice

4. Tifreth – Glory

5a. Din – Power

5b. Khesed – Mercy

6a. Binakh – Understanding

6b. Chokhmah – Wisdom

7. Kheter – Enlightening

The temples with a suffix "a" are on the left side of the compound, the ones with a suffix "b" on the right side. Temples without a suffix are on the upper and lower peaks of the hexagon.


	4. Ch 3: Acts of Sacrifice Part 3

**PROPHECY & CHANGE**

**by Soledad & eye_of_a_cat**

**CHAPTER 1: ACTS OF SACRIFICE**

**PART 3**

**Written by eye_of_a_cat**

"I am being ordered to do _what_?"

Alyt Neroon of the Star Riders was, unmistakably, furious. Although he would never act disrespectfully towards his Shai Alyt, his voice was trembling with barely-concealed rage, and he had only paused for a second in his pacing back and forth across the meeting room in order to speak.

"You are being _asked_," Shai Alyt Branmer said calmly, "to perform a great service to your caste and to all of Minbar. But the choice is yours."

"By marrying a naïve acolyte I have never even met? She was raised in a temple! She will know nothing of life outside prophecy, and sacred texts, and whatever else the Religious caste teach their children."

"Yes, but I have been assured that she is an excellent student."

Neroon slumped into a seat and cradled his face in his hands. "I am not hearing this."

Leaning forward, Branmer addressed him again, this time more seriously. "The Religious caste are offering us a gesture of peace and new life, to recognise our losses during the war and our anger over their surrender order. This is the closest they will come to an apology."

Neroon waved a hand dismissively. "Religious never apologise, not if it would mean admitting we are not so inferior as they all think." Seeing his Shai Alyt's half-amused look, he sighed and added "Not you, of course. But you are a Warrior now."

"If we refuse this offering, we might start a civil war."

"So _they_ suggest this... this insult as a way to atone for their actions, after all we did, after all we sacrificed – and if we do not accept it, then it will be _our_ fault if war breaks out?"

"It is no insult, Neroon. This girl is the Chosen One."

For the first time in many years, Neroon found himself unable to speak. All Minbari, even the Warrior caste, knew of the prophecy concerning the Chosen One. A child born to bring peace to their world, a child who would carry the future of Minbar in her hands, was born? "Are you sure?" he managed to whisper, finally.

"I did not believe it myself, not at first, but the priests I spoke to have confirmed it beyond all doubt. I have the documents here to prove this is true."

Wordlessly, Neroon took the papers from his Shai Alyt's hand and leafed through them. The genealogy, the place and time of birth, the distinctive shape of the blue cerulean patches that radiated from her headbone – it was all there, as prophesied. "Then why are they giving her away like this?"

"They believe this joining is what the prophecy has called for."

"And is it?"

Branmer sighed, and for a moment Neroon saw such weariness in his eyes, as though he had aged twenty years since the call to war. "I am a Warrior now, as you said. I do not interpret prophecy."

"But you were a high priest of the Religious caste, you know as well as they do what such things mean. Do you believe this?"

"_They_ believe this. And if they believe it, then enough of our caste will believe it to avert civil war. Our caste leaders chose you for this because the Star Riders are the oldest and most respected of the Warrior clans, and because you have spoken out so openly in your disapproval of their surrender order. You can refuse, if you wish, but know that if you do the Religious caste will take it as a rejection of their attempt to make peace. Go and consider this matter in private for a time. I... need to meditate."

Neroon bowed, fist against palm in the ancient Warrior salute, and left without saying another word.

* * *

><p>In the darkness of his personal quarters, with only the flickering, unsteady light of candles and the faint sound of the <em>Ingata<em>'s engines humming in the distance to distract him, Branmer recalled what Delenn had told him. One of the Grey Council coming to see him in person would have caused a great deal of commotion among his crew, but they did not know who his visitor was. Neither did they know of the history between their Shai Alyt and Satai Delenn. That thought caused a wry smile to flicker across his face for a moment – if any of them knew he had once been so close to a member of the Grey Council, he did not doubt their opinion of him would change.

Too long a time had passed since he last saw Delenn. He had appeared before the Nine after the war ended, demanding to know the reason for the surrender order, but she would not speak to him then or afterwards. Maybe that was best; their last conversation proved beyond all doubt that she would not say why the Grey Council ordered the Minbari to surrender. Not even to him.

At times, when he remembered those lost in the war, he imagined her robed in grey and stood with the other Satai in nine bright circles of light, and he was furious with her for what she had done. At other times – like this one, when only a few hours ago she had been standing before him, and for a moment he could imagine she had never left – he only missed her.

Brushing a gloved hand over his eyes, Branmer reminded himself that he had better things to do than think of such things. He had told Delenn that his Alyt might not agree to the proposed joining, but in truth he did not expect a refusal. Neroon truly did care for their world, and would never wish to see it plunged into civil war. If this joining could prevent that, if this was what the ancient prophecy had foretold, then it should happen.

He wondered what the Sisters of Valeria had told this girl, barely more than a child, about her fate. Would she agree to this? Would she, herself, truly believe it was her calling? It was a great sacrifice, but she would have been raised to think sacrifice was required of her. Words of the prophecy rang through his mind: _Though her soul shall be a guilt offering_ – well, _that_ much was certainly true.

Although Delenn would not say so, it was clear that she disapproved of this interpretation of prophecy, although she was prepared to arrange this joining for the sake of Minbar. Was the Religious caste really prepared to give away the Chosen One in this manner? True, she would remain in the Temple until her maturity and would continue in her sacred task, but this was asking so much of her. Neroon did not understand that, yet, and Branmer did not entirely blame him – it would be a great sacrifice for him also – but maybe he would, in time.

_She will carry our sorrows, and by her wounds shall we be healed._ Branmer knew the prophecy as well as any high priest of his former caste would, and tried to find solace in its words, wishing that he did not have to play a part in what he was increasingly sure was a blasphemy. But it was for the good of Minbar, whether or not it was indeed foretold, and if the Chosen One accepted that then he could not argue with the Religious caste leaders.

And she would accept her fate, of course, as the prophecy told her to. _She shall be oppressed and afflicted, yet she shall not open her mouth. _The poor child, Branmer thought. The poor child.

* * *

><p>Neroon knew, even before Branmer dismissed him to think about the matter, what his decision would be. He despised the idea of being forced into a joining, despised even more the knowledge that the Religious caste would hold him and his own caste responsible for refusing to make peace should he refuse, but he could not allow war to break out. Still, he could not bear to agree at first, and so he spent a day avoiding his Shai Alyt by teaching some of the younger crew members the finer points of <em>denn'bok<em> combat.

He waited for Branmer in his office that evening, wincing as he felt his shoulder begin to stiffen and ache under the armour. Several of his trainees had been rather more enthusiastic and talented than he expected, and he was too distracted to block several of their attacks in time. They were learning well, then, although the over-confidence which would inevitably come from doing so well against their Alyt would need to be addressed at another time.

Branmer bowed. Shai Alyts should not usually bow in such a manner to those they outranked, and for a moment Neroon's surprise broke through his pain and bitterness. "Have you made your decision?"

Neroon sighed. "I have. Although I do not wish for this joining, and I very much doubt I ever shall, it is necessary for the sake of Minbar. I agree."

Branmer clapped him on the shoulder, and Neroon tried not to wince again in pain. "Your caste will thank you for this, Neroon."

"And my _intended_ –" he tried his best not to choke on the word, but it was difficult – "will she accept this?"

"She has already given her agreement, although I doubt she ever had any real choice. She is young, still, and will stay in the Temple until she is older. I do not think she has ever known a life outside those walls. It is a great sacrifice for her, as well."

"Yes," Neroon said quietly. An emotion he had never expected from this situation had caught him by surprise, and he found himself feeling true pity for this Chosen One. "Yes, I imagine it is."

~TBC~


End file.
